Ruined-Broken-Healed
by Penguin-Major Nora
Summary: PG13 for cussing.. you no like, you no read, as usual. Um, it's set in their seventh year. Ron's POV. It's angst, okay?


He's changed. Not to say the rest of us haven't, we have. But he's changed the most. He's the one least like the rest of us now. It's sad.. almost sickening. Dammit, he's changed way to much. It scares me. Back in our first year at Hogwarts, he was strong. Solid. He didn't change too much. Now he's broken. Voldemort broke him. 

You know, I was talking to Hermione yesterday. She told me that she always wanted to have run of Hogwarts. Run of the castle. Now we have it.. and under the circumstances, we aren't running around, exploring the place, using Harry's Marauder's Map. 

I wish we were. I want to go back to the way we were then, happy little kids. That'll never, ever happen. Harry's our leader. He always has been. He's a born leader, and he held us together at through the worst times. But he's too far gone now. Ruined. 

It seems like lately, the sky is darker. The days are longer. Daylight hours drag by slowly, us holding up the castle. We have to defend it. They're depending on us, the seventh years. Because the younger kids couldn't take on a Death Eater. Neither could we.. 

I close my eyes, not wanting to think about that. Not wanting to think about what happened to Dean and Ginny when they tried. Not wanting to think about how Harry had to let them go. Not wanting to think about.. Dammit, I'm thinking about it anyway.   
Ginny, my lips form her name, silently. But I knew in my heart I wasn't mourning for her. It was Harry, he was the reason I cried. Because he might as well have been dead. 

_-------_   
_+You seem colder now, torn apart, angry, turned around+_

_-Matchbox 20, Mad Season_   
_--------_

Because he's ripped himself apart, that's why. He's 17, making those decisions. I could never take it. Hermione could never take it. Shit, he can't take it. He can't, and if you know him as well as I do, you know that his eyes aren't the same. They're cold. Ruined. I've tried to convince myself he's not too far gone. He can love me again. But I know he can't. Those long conversations with Hermione about everything by the fireside, about if we could bring him back.. We can't. I know we can't.. 

I don't want to know that, I don't want that in my mind. Don't want to think about it. Neither does Hermione. But we both are. It's one of those annoying human flaws, you can't stop thinking about something when you want to. It's impossible. 

He's killed a lot of Death Eaters. He really has. He probably saved the castle multiple times, but he couldn't save himself. I hate that. It scares me a lot that I know I'm next. Hermione's next. Dean and Ginny are gone, how many decisions like that, how many times do you have to decide if your friends live or die- or which friends will- to corrupt your soul like that? To turn your eyes to ice? 

I couldn't stand to see Hermione go to that, I really couldn't. I can't stand to see Harry go to that. Attempting to get my mind off this, I go downstairs. For some reason, we stayed in our dorms and common room. That, at least, hasn't changed. I see Harry and Hermione sitting by the fireplace, Harry staring at the flames, Hermione absorbed in a book. As usual. I guess it kept her mind off things. 

I sat down next to Harry, holding his hand tightly. "Harry," I whispered, "It's not over yet." 

"Fuck, Ron, it'll never be over. I can't keep up like this- I can't. I have no reason to live. Can't you see that? There's no chance in saving the castle. There's no chance at all." 

"There's no chance in saving us, no chance, Ron, we're lost. We've lost." I attempted to say something, but I couldn't think. I couldn't speak. 

Finally, "Harry, don't think like that. Or it'll happen," I managed to say, my voice thin. Weak. 

"You two- God. My god.. we will get though this. Our side will get through this. But we need you, Harry. Harry, we need you more then anything else.   
You're the Boy who Lived-" 

"I'M NOT THAT ANYMORE! I'M NOT HARRY FUCKING POTTER ANYMORE! I'M THAT ASSHOLE THAT LET GINNY AND DEAN DIE, AREN'T I? I DON'T MEAN ANYTHING TO THIS WORLD, ASIDE FROM BEING AN EVIL WARLORD BASTARD!" 

I saw Hermione lean back, holding her forehead. I don't really remember what happened after that.. something blurry. My memory for that is faded. 

The next thing I remembered was Harry's green eyes softened. Crying. Blood.. blood pouring from his wrists. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Hermione was screaming, I remember that. I remember that blood on me, covering my clothes. I held onto his hands tightly, holding his wrists, trying to stop the bloodflow. Hermione ran out of the room to get her wand. 

_--------_   
_+Hold me now_   
_I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking_   
_That maybe six feet_   
_Ain't so far down_

_Sad eyes follow me_   
_But I still believe there's something left for me_   
_So please come stay with me_   
_'Cause I still believe there's something left for you and me_   
_For you and me_   
_For you and me_

_Hold me now_   
_I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking+_   
_-Creed, One Last Breath_   
_-------_

"Ron, please.. let me die.." He pleaded through chocking sobs. 

"I-I can't, Harry, I love you.." I said, but I don't think he heard me. I couldn't hear myself. My voice was even thinner then before, even weaker. Hermione running into the room. She picked up his left hand, and muttered some verses under her breath, and it healed. She did the same to his other hand. 

"Harry, you can't do this to yourself.." 

"Yes, I can.." His eyes were downcast, staring at the mess of blood on his front, and refusing to meet Hermione's eyes. 

"Harry, you're not an evil warlord to us, and you shouldn't be to yourself. You can go back to the way you were before.. Before everything happened, before Voldemort.. before Voldemort.." I said, having no idea where my words came from. 

"Broke me? Ruined me? Impossible, I can't go back to being like that, not ever.." I had never heard him that hopeless before. 

"Yes, you can, Harry.. and we'll try to help.." Hermione said. Looking at her tearstained face, I could see how tired she looked, and scared. I realized I was like that myself. "You lost a lot of blood, Harry.." She stated the obvious. I looked down at my robes, and they were covered in his blood, as was the floor, and the front of his robes. 

"I can heal that," I murmured, taking his wrist and holding my wand up to it. I said the healing spell I had learned earlier that year, and slowly saw the color return to his cheeks. 

Silence. No one knew what to say. I let my grip slip from Harry's wrist to his hand, and the three of us sat there for a few minutes in silent understanding. Finally, Hermione stood up, muttering something about having to go to bed. Harry and I soon followed. 

The house-elves never questioned the blood. 

A/N: Review? Pweeese? Even flames are welcome, they're good for roasting flamers over.. 

Disclaimer: Yes, Matchbox 20, Creed, Harry Potter and the world belong to ME.. NOT. I don't own the charecters, the words, or the songs: Just the order I put them in on the page. 


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